


The Only Place I Can Breathe

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: Fratt Week 2020 [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Fratt Week 2020, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Matt Murdock, POV Frank Castle, Pre-Slash, Protective Frank Castle, Protective Matt Murdock, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: Frank had grown strangely attached to Matt's apartment, or maybe it was to the person who owned it. Either way, best not to think too hard about it.
Relationships: Frank Castle & Matt Murdock
Series: Fratt Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759633
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83
Collections: Fratt Week





	The Only Place I Can Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day one of Fratt Week and the prompt: Stick

Frank moved easily around Matt’s home, was eerily familiar with every nook and cranny, every scratch in the floor and crack in the walls. He hadn’t been so comfortable anywhere in years, not since Maria and their home, the one they had chosen together for the space it gave them to grow, to live out their years happily. Frank shook his head, wiped his face with a too soft cloth and watched the blood and dirt circle in the drain.

Only some of it was his. A nasty cut on his forehead and a few cheap shots to his ribs were all the perp managed before he’d gotten a grip on the guy’s hair and slammed him headfirst into the jagged metal wall. The crunch had been satisfying beyond words. So much so, in fact, that he’d repeated the move twice more, until blood had poured from his broken nose and cracked teeth toppled from his split lips.

But.

He hadn’t killed him. Frank had stared down at the man’s body, still and unmoving in a glistening pool of his own blood and he had just stared. The colour, half in shadow and half in the warmth of a streetlamp had reminded him of something else, someone else, who also wore red. Frank had fingered the trigger of the gun in his hand, thumb rubbing over a familiar groove and found himself unable to take the shot, unable to just press it to his temple and watch his brains fly.

The realization had been mildly terrifying. He had, in the end, consoled himself with the knowledge that the man wasn’t likely to wake up any time soon if at all. It was even possible he’d die here in a few hours if nobody found him. From there, Frank had run, tried to escape the way his stomach twisted, and the fear choked him. Inevitably, he had found himself here, the same place he always ended up each night.

Matt was never here. Out fighting crime in his own heroic way, sometimes at the law firm, more likely avoiding his friends how ever he could. Frank liked to pretend he didn’t feel guilt for that, hadn’t in some small way made it worse for him. Still, it hardly mattered, Matt didn’t seem to mind him being here, definitely knew he showed up every night, Frank didn’t try to be subtle.

Which was why he was startled by the sound of Matt’s front door opening. He tensed instinctively, listening as he met his own eyes in the dirty mirror. It wasn’t Matt, he knew that much right away, the footsteps were far too bold, too invasive in this space. They didn’t sound like him and Frank was surprised by the flare of protectiveness that came to life inside him.

Reaching for his gun, Frank rolled his neck, ready to defend. This place was safety, refuge, belonged to a man who had both judged and saved him. Frank knew he had no right to it, no right to Matt but he felt as though he owed a debt to the man who understood, the man who had tried to save him and he’d be damned if he let someone waltz into Matt’s home and rummage around.

“Come on out here. No use talking through a closed door.”

Frank grimaced, tightened his grip on his gun. The man sounded old, his voice gravelly and sarcastic, none of which mattered. Stepping out into the darkened space and moving straight for the living room, Frank drew up short at the sight in front of him.

He’d been right about the old man bit but what he wasn’t expecting was a blind one. Frank’s finger didn’t falter where it hovered over the trigger, he knew after all, how dangerous he could still be. The man was behind Matt’s counter, seemingly preparing a kettle and grabbing cups in a way that suggested familiarity.

Somehow, Frank wasn’t inclined to think he was a friend.

The man chuckled lowly, “you’re smarter than I’d thought you’d be.” He nodded at where Frank kept the gun ready at his side.

“You know me?”

“The Punisher,” Frank tensed at the nickname. “The man who ruthlessly murdered-”

“Get out.”

Frank’s head snapped toward the stairway, noted that the other man didn’t even react to Matt’s sudden appearance. Daredevil stood there, posture stiff, if not downright threatening. He was facing the old man, lips curled into something like disgust and Frank knew his instinct had been right This man wasn’t welcome, was invading their space.

“Matthew-”

“I said get out.”

“We need to talk-”

“He said to leave,” Frank snapped, stepping forward. He was impressed when Matt didn’t stop him, was emboldened enough to raise his gun, aiming for the man’s head. His earlier qualms against killing were no where to be found. “I’d suggest doing it sooner rather than later old man.”

A smirk came to his lips, followed by a considering gaze. Before Frank could say anything else, however, Matt spoke, “don’t even think about it.”

He shrugged and finally moved out from behind the counter, “he seems like a good fighter is all.”

No other words were spoken as he made his way toward the stairs. Frank tracked his movements the entire time, clenched his teeth when he whispered something into Matt’s ear before continuing on his way past him and out the front door.

Frank finally dropped his gun and the two of them stood in silence for several long minutes. Unease washed through him, not at the silence, but at the realization, somewhere along the way, Matt had become his people. He felt strangely protective of the man as he slumped, one hand coming up to hold his side as he staggered toward the couch. Who would have thought he’d make something of a friend along the way?

“Are you going to just stand there?” Matt commented.

Frank raised an eyebrow, “you going to explain who that was?

“Too complicated right now, maybe another time.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.” Frank had a feeling that he held a lot of secrets held close to his heart. That was okay, because he did too.

What a pair they made.


End file.
